Aurigny
Active Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Francés; Português Central; Português Interior; Primitivo; Português da Costa; Invierno; Gebennensis
I started the Portugues last night. Having only a week, I elected to do the traditional, if now abbreviated, route from Porto Cathedral to SdC, 260 km or so in total, rather than the new-fangled start-in-Lisbon version. It'll mean a daily average of a bit over 35 km, which was what I was averaging on the Frances last year. This one will be easier, I think, being flatter and accomplished in more temperate conditions.
I was, to be sure, a little worried about the weather. In summertime you basically have a choice between hot and very hot. Right now, the main problem is the diurnal variation. When I arrived in Porto last night, it was very cold indeed, for these parts at any rate: around -5C. I have good waterproofs, but for reasons of weight, convenience and budget don't have much in the way of cold-weather gear beyond a good-quality merino base layer and long underwear. For the rest I'm relying on the miracle of layering.
For the most part this is working well, as long as I keep moving. The difficulty arises when I stop. Last night, my flight arriving very late, I stopped at the AirPorto Hostel in Maia, which I chose mainly on the ground of proximity. It's only about a mile (1.6 km) from the airport -- fifteen minutes' walk if you know where you're going. I didn't, so I managed to double that while blundering around in the dark. It's a small but nice place, charging EUR 13 a night for a bunk in a six-bed room, a frugal breakfast included. The management is pleasant and helpful, and the establishment pretty clean throughout.
The main problem was the temperature. It was, as I say, cold for these parts, as it has been across the whole of western Europe of late. The conditions easily overwhelmed the tiny electric heater in the room, and the polyester blanket provided did little to make up the deficiency. Long story short, I froze half to death, despite wearing practically the entire contents of my backpack. Still, it was nice to be back in shell-and-yellow-arrow land, even if the penitential component of the pilgrimage started a few hours early.
I was out on the road this morning at 0745, and took the tram to the Cathedral so that I could acquire a credential. As it turned out, that was too early. Even on Sundays the Cathedral doesn't open until 0900. However, the gentleman who sells the tickets for the museum kindly fixed me up with the necessary document for a couple of euro. Mass (curiously for a church of that importance, the only one celebrated on Sundays) is at eleven, and I was on my way immediately after it was over.
Hearing that the main route out of town in the Brierley guidebook drags through some grimly industrial suburbs, I elected to take the scenic (green-route) alternative, which heads westward down to the Douro river estuary and then turns north up the coast to Vila do Conde. It's a few kilometres longer, but I think it's worth it. Until Matasinhos, about 12 km from the Cathedral, there are no arrows or other signs that I could see. However, they're hardly needed: the navigation couldn't be simpler. Just keep the Douro on your left hip until you hit the Atlantic, then turn right and put the coastline in the same place. Impossible to go wrong. Heading this way also gives you the opportunity to stop in at the tourist information office at the beach in Matasinhos, where the gracious staff will stamp your credential and tell you which albergues are still open at this time of year. Fortunately, there seem to be quite a lot of them.
Amenities-wise, the route could hardly be better supplied. Even on a Sunday, there are every bit as many cafes, restaurants and shops as you'll find on a typical well-trafficked stretch of the Frances. Things do thin out north of Vila Cha: from then on you'll have to wait until you reach Vila do Conde, 34 km from the starting point.
Visually it's a mixed bag. You're walking along a typical European seafront, and at this time of year you're sharing the space with half of Porto, it seems, out jogging or walking their dogs. For most of the day, then, I found myself weaving my way through dense knots of people, past blocks of up-market flats and the occasional oil refinery. Once north of Matasinhos town, the great majority of the route is boardwalk, winding its way in and out of the sand dunes. This has quite a lot of charm, as does the working fishing village of Angeiras, populated by more cats than I've ever seen in one place, Largo Argentina in Rome alone excepted. There must be close to 15 km of boardwalk between Leixões seaport and Vila do Conde. Some timber merchant had to have made an absolute fortune.
On arrival, the Santa Clara albergue in the middle of town is easy to find. Currently I'm the only pilgrim, so they were very pleased to see me and couldn't have been kinder to me. Effectively I have my own ten-bed room for the standard fee of EUR 7.50. It's a good set-up, with washing machines, cooking facilities and several bathrooms. Once again, it's scrupulously clean. They have an arrangement with the nearby Saura restaurant, where even at this time of year one can get the familiar menu peregrino (more carbohydrates than you can shake a stick at, your choice of protein -- the chicken escalope wasn't bad -- and a bit of salad) at an extremely cheap rate.
All in all it's a good time to be walking, even if the experience couldn't be more different from the Frances. The temperature situation is manageable: for the next week, it's forecast to feature daily lows of about the freezing point and highs, as today, of somewhere near 12C (54F). What you don't get is company. I didn't see a single person today who could plausibly have been mistaken for a fellow pilgrim. And, as I say, I'm on my ownsome tonight. For those who like to join Camino "families," this will be a disappointing experience. But for the more introverted cohort, among whom I number myself, the opportunity for solitude and reflection -- once one has passed well out of the city limits -- is valuable in itself.
Tomorrow I'll be leaving the coast and hacking my way over onto the main Brierley-trail, probably overnighting in Barcelos. I'll provide an update then, if anyone's interested.
I was, to be sure, a little worried about the weather. In summertime you basically have a choice between hot and very hot. Right now, the main problem is the diurnal variation. When I arrived in Porto last night, it was very cold indeed, for these parts at any rate: around -5C. I have good waterproofs, but for reasons of weight, convenience and budget don't have much in the way of cold-weather gear beyond a good-quality merino base layer and long underwear. For the rest I'm relying on the miracle of layering.
For the most part this is working well, as long as I keep moving. The difficulty arises when I stop. Last night, my flight arriving very late, I stopped at the AirPorto Hostel in Maia, which I chose mainly on the ground of proximity. It's only about a mile (1.6 km) from the airport -- fifteen minutes' walk if you know where you're going. I didn't, so I managed to double that while blundering around in the dark. It's a small but nice place, charging EUR 13 a night for a bunk in a six-bed room, a frugal breakfast included. The management is pleasant and helpful, and the establishment pretty clean throughout.
The main problem was the temperature. It was, as I say, cold for these parts, as it has been across the whole of western Europe of late. The conditions easily overwhelmed the tiny electric heater in the room, and the polyester blanket provided did little to make up the deficiency. Long story short, I froze half to death, despite wearing practically the entire contents of my backpack. Still, it was nice to be back in shell-and-yellow-arrow land, even if the penitential component of the pilgrimage started a few hours early.
I was out on the road this morning at 0745, and took the tram to the Cathedral so that I could acquire a credential. As it turned out, that was too early. Even on Sundays the Cathedral doesn't open until 0900. However, the gentleman who sells the tickets for the museum kindly fixed me up with the necessary document for a couple of euro. Mass (curiously for a church of that importance, the only one celebrated on Sundays) is at eleven, and I was on my way immediately after it was over.
Hearing that the main route out of town in the Brierley guidebook drags through some grimly industrial suburbs, I elected to take the scenic (green-route) alternative, which heads westward down to the Douro river estuary and then turns north up the coast to Vila do Conde. It's a few kilometres longer, but I think it's worth it. Until Matasinhos, about 12 km from the Cathedral, there are no arrows or other signs that I could see. However, they're hardly needed: the navigation couldn't be simpler. Just keep the Douro on your left hip until you hit the Atlantic, then turn right and put the coastline in the same place. Impossible to go wrong. Heading this way also gives you the opportunity to stop in at the tourist information office at the beach in Matasinhos, where the gracious staff will stamp your credential and tell you which albergues are still open at this time of year. Fortunately, there seem to be quite a lot of them.
Amenities-wise, the route could hardly be better supplied. Even on a Sunday, there are every bit as many cafes, restaurants and shops as you'll find on a typical well-trafficked stretch of the Frances. Things do thin out north of Vila Cha: from then on you'll have to wait until you reach Vila do Conde, 34 km from the starting point.
Visually it's a mixed bag. You're walking along a typical European seafront, and at this time of year you're sharing the space with half of Porto, it seems, out jogging or walking their dogs. For most of the day, then, I found myself weaving my way through dense knots of people, past blocks of up-market flats and the occasional oil refinery. Once north of Matasinhos town, the great majority of the route is boardwalk, winding its way in and out of the sand dunes. This has quite a lot of charm, as does the working fishing village of Angeiras, populated by more cats than I've ever seen in one place, Largo Argentina in Rome alone excepted. There must be close to 15 km of boardwalk between Leixões seaport and Vila do Conde. Some timber merchant had to have made an absolute fortune.
On arrival, the Santa Clara albergue in the middle of town is easy to find. Currently I'm the only pilgrim, so they were very pleased to see me and couldn't have been kinder to me. Effectively I have my own ten-bed room for the standard fee of EUR 7.50. It's a good set-up, with washing machines, cooking facilities and several bathrooms. Once again, it's scrupulously clean. They have an arrangement with the nearby Saura restaurant, where even at this time of year one can get the familiar menu peregrino (more carbohydrates than you can shake a stick at, your choice of protein -- the chicken escalope wasn't bad -- and a bit of salad) at an extremely cheap rate.
All in all it's a good time to be walking, even if the experience couldn't be more different from the Frances. The temperature situation is manageable: for the next week, it's forecast to feature daily lows of about the freezing point and highs, as today, of somewhere near 12C (54F). What you don't get is company. I didn't see a single person today who could plausibly have been mistaken for a fellow pilgrim. And, as I say, I'm on my ownsome tonight. For those who like to join Camino "families," this will be a disappointing experience. But for the more introverted cohort, among whom I number myself, the opportunity for solitude and reflection -- once one has passed well out of the city limits -- is valuable in itself.
Tomorrow I'll be leaving the coast and hacking my way over onto the main Brierley-trail, probably overnighting in Barcelos. I'll provide an update then, if anyone's interested.
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